He crawled up out of the rathole, anxious to rinse his body in the rain. The stench of it was beginning to cling and offend even his insipid senses. He decided to journey to the grass nearby, just to spruce himself up a bit and decompress from the last few days of debauchery. He was only an insect, with few friends, and lets face it, his lifespan was entirely too short.
He tried to steer himself carefully, avoiding the quick footfalls or swats that all creatures like him had to endure. It was becoming less and less easy accomplishing this feat. His age was making his body deteriorate fast these days–one reason he spent his nights in the rathole.
Larry lived life to the fullest every night since his conversation with Joe ten days ago. Joe always thought he was an expert on everything and never spared Larry any gruesome details on their lives as moths. Learning the sad fact their lifespan was only a few months, he was determined to meet, mate, and party as much as he could.
Joe advised against this, always pointing out the downside of such activity. “The more you expose yourself, the more chance you’ll find yourself in a museum, impaled on a hatpin!”
Larry didn’t take Joe’s advice, and loved the nightlife. He didn’t have to be suave or romantic, his female companions only lived a few days, so why get involved? He was devil-may-care Larry, the lepidoptera.